


the sound of joy from your lips is the most precious feeling of all

by MatildaSwan



Category: Holby City
Genre: Canon Compliant, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, Good Wholesome Gay Fun, Nipples, Post-Series, also smiling and pancakes and stargazing, laughter! lots of laughter too, lots of nipples
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-27
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-12-20 10:41:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11919183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MatildaSwan/pseuds/MatildaSwan
Summary: “Nip slip!” Serena gasps out, giggling so hard she almost falls out of her seat—would have done, if not for Bernie’s arms reaching out to catch her— and Bernie’s heart bursts as she feels Serena's whole body shake with laughter.It becomes something of a habit, after that, a joke never far away.(Five times Serena repeats a joke + one time Bernie makes it instead)





	the sound of joy from your lips is the most precious feeling of all

**Author's Note:**

> In which I am Serena and have legit been laughing about [this skit](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e52QzwuDX2U) for like two weeks
> 
> Shout out to Reg and Jess for being babes and beta-ing, bless ur cotton socks ❤️

All things considered, she blames Dom. The link came from him, after all.

Bernie sits at the table with her marmite and logs into her laptop for the first time in three days. Checks her emails for the first time in a week, expecting to have more details to read over before her deployment starts. Checks her social accounts for the first time in a fortnight, expecting to have a poke from Charlotte, and a link to a selfie of her son and his new turtle best friends. She doesn’t expect the third message.

She smiles when she sees it’s from Dom: ‘hope ur well and thought u might lik a laf x’ and a youtube clip. Taps out a quick reply—‘we’re good thanks, hope you’re doing okay too’—and hits enter before clicking the link.

She watches with a frown, interested and intrigued. Then almost chokes on her crust, barely manages not to spray crumbs all over the table, and brays so loud it has Serena bundling herself down the stairs from the bedroom.

“What’s the commotion about?”

“Dom sent me something,” she dries her eyes and wipes at the corner of her mouth. “It’s quite funny.”

Serena blinks at her, eyebrow curved high. “Evidently,” she quips, regarding Bernie’s flushed face, before padding across the kitchen to pour herself coffee.

Bernie watches her, can’t help smiling, still unused to Serena being so near. Serena looks up and Bernie knows she’s been caught; grins ruefully and ducks her head. She won’t apologise for making sure Serena is really there, no matter how many times Serena spots her doing it, not after they almost fell apart: she refuses to be anything other than overwhelmingly grateful to have her here and whole and near enough to touch.

She won’t apologise, but she’ll be embarrassed about being caught ogling all the same.

She looks up when she hears the chair scrape next to her, smiles when Serena plonks herself down beside her, and toggles the laptop so she can see.

_[Hi Freckle...I’m genderfluid...I top them all](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e52QzwuDX2U)._

The laughter that bursts from deep in Serena’s throat is the most precious sound Bernie has heard in a long time—sweeter, even, than hearing Serena moan and gasp as she trembles in Bernie’s arms, like she has every night, every morning, most afternoons, since Bernie arrived in France—because Serena’s laughter, long and loud and uninhibited, no longer bitten back or quashed down, is a sound Bernie thought she’d never hear again. But there it is, warm and welcome in her ear, Serena beside her, and the palm of her hand slapping at Bernie’s forearm as her eyes gleam and she tries not to snort.

“ _Nip slip_!” Serena gasps out, giggling so hard she almost falls out of her seat—would have done, if not for Bernie’s arms reaching out to catch her— and Bernie’s heart bursts as she feels Serena’s whole body shake with laughter.

She waits for Serena to catch her breath before shifting her chair, for Serena to look at her before reaching out to pull her into her lap, all the while muttering about just how _good_ it is to hear Serena laugh again.

*

They have pancakes the next morning. Bernie shuffles around the kitchen between pouring and flipping and plating, her stomach grumbling in anticipation. She watches Serena out of the corner of her eye, padding from the fridge to the table and back again as she sets out the toppings: sugar and lemon and ice cream. Serena catches her staring and neither of them try to hide their smiles.

Bernie slides the second to last pancake onto the stack—a respectable height they cannot hope to finish in one sitting—and pours the last of the batter into the pan. The butter sizzles when the batter hits the skillet and she smiles; hears Serena snickering softly and she looks over her shoulder.

“What’s up?” she asks as she dumps the jug in the sink and fills it with water. She can bother with cleaning later.

She turns when Serena doesn’t reply. Sees Serena with a tiny sly smirk on her lips, her head and shoulders both shaking gently, and wonders what the joke is; is about to ask when Serena finally looks up.

“Nip slip,” she mumbles, waggling her eyebrows slightly.

Bernie squints. Snorts. Manages not to roll her eyes. Smiles all the same as she turns back to the hot plate and flips the last pancake.

She hears Serena walk around the table, across the kitchen, and looks over her shoulder. Sees the smile now a smirk and Serena’s bright shining eyes; slides the pan over to a cold plate, flips the heat off, and turns around with her arms open.

Serena steps forward into Bernie’s waiting arms and nuzzles into her shoulder, hums content as Bernie slips her arms around her waist and holds tight, her thumb tracing arcs over the small of Serena’s back. They’re breathing each other in, swaying slightly, until Serena giggles again.

Bernie thinks she understands the joke now.

“Is it?” Bernie mumbles as one hand smooths round Serena’s hip, over her stomach, and up to her breast. Serena moans gently, arches up like a cat, her head tilting back slightly. She purrs at the back of her throat while Bernie thumbs at her nipple.

“I don’t know,” she starts, before breaking off with a gasp as Bernie’s fingers pinch. She flops her head down to look at Bernie, eyes a touch unfocused, strokes at the side of Bernie’s face, her voice is low and thick: “Is it?”

They draw closer, breath ghosting over each other’s lips, mouth barely millimetres apart.

“No, it’s not.” Bernie ducks Serena’s kiss and slips out of the embrace. “It’s breakfast time.”

She grabs the stack of pancakes, makes towards the table, just manages to settle in her seat before Serena whips around furious.

Serena turns to see Bernie helping herself to far too much ice cream and the mischievous glint in her eyes. She hears Bernie chuckle and softens, smiling; vows to get her back later as she sits down beside her and steals back the ice cream.

*

Serena has Bernie splayed out on her back, hands wrapped around the headboard, writhing as she mouths down Bernie’s neck, over her collarbone, at the top of her scar.

She hovers over the hem of Bernie’s vest, drags her lips along the skin just above the line of fabric, hand running over her stomach and slipping under the tight material to tickle at the underside of her breast. Bernie giggles, tummy quivering; Serena scrapes her nails down towards her hip and runs her palm back up to paw at Bernie’s breast. Hooks a finger under the collar and pulls it down, lets the vest sit to reveal a dusty pink nipple. She licks gently and Bernie moans; she blows over the nipple and Bernie arches up.

Serena pulls back, hovers just over Bernie’s chest, heated stare focused on Bernie’s face: flushed and blushing, eyes squeezed tight, panting between parted lips. So close to completely undone. Almost, but not quite; there’s room enough for teasing.

Serena takes it. Makes her wait. Holds herself _just_ so and her mouth no lower, lets her breath puff over a pebbled areola while Bernie shivers, and waits.

Bernie cracks open an eye to see Serena waiting on her knees. She groans, opens her mouth to beg; notices Serena’s raised eyebrows and stays silent.

“Nip slip,” Serena purrs, lips curled feral and eyes glinting, enticing Bernie to play along.

Bernie whines, works her tongue against the roof of her mouth as she tries to remember how to speak.

“Is it?” she finally pants out, voice strained and breathless and wanting.

Serena lowers her head a fraction.

“I don’t know.” Her lips graze over a stiff peak as she speaks. “Is it?”

Bernie hums, writhes, pushes her chest up into Serena warm, waiting mouth and cries out.

*

Serena rolls away from a gently snoring Bernie and out of bed. Pads, barefoot, towards the bathroom, overlarge jumper covering the tops of her naked thighs.

She turns on the shower, strips off the woollens, leaves herself in a tight singlet. Glances at the mirror as she goes to strip that off too, notices the collar has worked its way rather far down on one breast, now sitting below her nipple.

Serena looks at the pink nub poking out over the neckline of her clothes.

 _Nip slip_ , she thinks with a giggle.

She smiles ruefully to herself, strips off the singlet; adjusts the temperature till it’s just right, and soaks herself under the spray.

*

The evening air is frosty around them curled up under a blanket on a picnic rug underneath a clear twinkling sky.

A gentle breeze gusts over them and Bernie snuggles deeper into Serena’s chest. She hisses as something gets her in the eye.

“What wrong?” Serena asks, looking down at Bernie burrowed in her armpit, concern evident on her face.

“You almost poked my eye out,” Bernie sulks, rubbing at her eyelid.

“How?” Serena looks at one hand on Bernie’s elbow and feels the other on the back of her skull: both exactly where she left them and neither anywhere near Bernie’s eyes.

“ _That_ ,” Bernie bites out, poking with pinpoint accuracy.

“Ah!” Serena yelps and grabs her breast. “Careful!” she chides as she she squirms away slightly. “It’s cold,” she whines, smoothing her palm over her nipple.

“I know, my eye was almost collateral damage,” Bernie rebuts, blinking rapid, before pouting at Serena.

“I’m sorry, Bernie,” Serena apologises as she props herself up on a elbow, sees the touch of redness in Bernie’s left eye. “You know it was an accident. I supposed it slipped when your face got too close.” She muses for moment, before simpering. “In fact, you could even say,” she starts, eyebrow raises and voice already thick with laugher. “You had a bit of a nip slip.”

Bernie groans and rolls her eyes. “Not this _again_ ,” she huffs, pretending to be perturbed, but grins all the same.

Serena snickers, shuffles her hand behind her head, and lays flat again. She smiles when Bernie rejoins her a few moments later, a protective palm on Serena’s breast and Bernie’s cheek on the back of her hand, the other arm bend at the elbow and her wrist resting against Serena’s stomach. Serena squeezes her shoulder as they snuggle close and look up back at the stars.

*

Bernie hums to herself as she sloshes in the sink, making her way through the plates from dinner. She hears steps creak down the stairs and glances over her shoulder as the steps pad into the kitchen.

“Hello you, almost done,” she mumbles over her shoulder, turning back to the last of the dishes before her mind has caught up to her eyes. She sucks in a breath and drops the plate back into the sink; looks over her shoulder again, her mouth falling open at the sight before her.

Serena in thigh highs, a suspender belt, and an artfully constructed criss-cross of black lace that covers her breasts but leaves nothing to the imagination.

Bernie blinks as she takes it all in: Serena’s stockinged thighs, her bush framed in leopard print—the same belt that divides the creamy swell of her stomach—the pebbled nipples, visible through sheer material. She audibly gulps.

Then she sees the glint in Serena’s eyes and almost whimpers, feels her mouth fall open as Serena gently pulls a strap off one shoulder, slipping it down her arm to pull the lace cup to hang useless along the under-curve of her breast.

Serena puts a hand on her hip, puffs her chest out slightly and rolls her shoulders back, and smirks at Bernie’s open mouth.

“Nip slip,” she says with a quirked eyebrow, once again enticing Bernie to keep the joke going.

But Bernie just keeps gaping, her mouth hanging slack and open, big wide eyes blinking rapid and flicking all over Serena’s body: from her face to her waist to her toes. She doesn’t speak, doesn’t move, barely even breathes if the flush of her face is any indication.

Serena loses the smile and frowns a little when Bernie keeps staring; wonders for a moment if she might actually have broken Bernie and takes a few steps forward while softly whispering her name.

She doesn’t know if it’s the proximity or her voice that snaps Bernie out of her reverie but it works; finds herself sitting at the edge of the bench with her feet dangling a foot and a half off the ground and arms wrapped tight around her middle before she can so much as yelp surprise; finds she doesn’t much care as a searing hot mouth latches onto a nipple, sucking till she throws her head back with a gasp, and fingertip trace their way up her thigh.

*

The cottage is quiet, only the living room occupied; just the scrape of pages turning to counter the cacophony of frogs and crickets and owls filling the still night air.

Bernie reads the same sentence for the seventh time and gives up trying to read. She’s better at speaking French anyway. She looks up from her book, looks over at Serena on the couch, to see if it’s worth interrupting her.

She’d forgotten Serena had started wearing reading glasses. Her stomach falls through the floor. Then she notices the swell of a bare breast and a nipple poking out the side of Serena’s loose fitting tank top. She grins to herself.

“Serena,” she coos, sitting up properly in her chair. Waits for her to look up over her glasses. Tilts her head meaningfully when Serena hums her query. “Nip slip.”

Serena frowns, looks down, smiles. Looks back up at Bernie and quirks an eyebrow. “It is?”

“I don’t know,” Bernie starts, thoroughly enjoying being on the other end of the joke for once. “Is it?”

Serena snorts, rolls her eyes, rights her shirt. Goes back to reading, till she notices Bernie crawling up the couch towards her, and quickly gives up on her book too.


End file.
